Essay 12 of 52: Rest

It's a snow day today.

Classes are cancelled. Work is cancelled. Practice is cancelled and all I can see is white. Snow is such a balm to this mountain girl's heart. I grew up in the woods of New Mexico. I grew up with no backyard boundaries and pine trees and snow on Easter Sunday. And there is nothing more comforting, more peaceful, more home, than snow.

I love snow days because they feel more like a pause than anything else. I might play catch up a bit, but more than likely, I am completely lazy. Staying in bed until noon, making pancakes, watching movies and baking cookies. The world stops for a moment and there is no guilt. That's the golden part - no guilt.

I pride myself on being someone who says "No" really well. For the most part, I don't over-commit myself. I'm social, but I have a very close circle of friends, most of whom live far away. My days are quiet and habitual. But am I allowing myself to fully rest?

A few weeks ago, I read something by Jess Connolly that really stuck with me. She said, "Rest means we stop trying to make ourselves well and let Him make us well."

It stuck with me.

For a long time I thought an empty calendar equaled a restful life. That is not the case.  Resting doesn't always mean being still and being still doesn't always mean resting. What are my thoughts? What am I focusing on?

And this is where my One Little Word comes into play again - Release.

Releasing, for me, is true rest. It is releasing myself from the guilt of a quiet afternoon when chores could be done. When dishes sit in the sink, crusty and old from last night. When I actively choose to share my heart with the Lord, instead of mentally redecorating my house. When I release myself into Him, I find real rest. The moment is actually physical. I feel myself literally loosen - like I've been holding my breath, holding my burden.

This weather, this calm, is such a good reminder to let myself rest. True rest. Not just binging on Netflix for hours, but connecting myself to truth. To release.

You know what's funny? This post was supposed to be about work. How writing is work and you have to push through and work when you don't feel like it and how work is ..... you know. But as I waited for my computer to load, I looked out the window. At snow. And I remembered how the working comes easily to me. But the resting? That is my true work.

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